


Injustice

by Luciferland



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Backstory, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Other, Prequel, Serial Killers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 12:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15049511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luciferland/pseuds/Luciferland
Summary: Kyungsoo has had enough. After years of injustice, he finally understands what he needs to do.





	Injustice

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Blind Spot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11068653) by [baeconandeggs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs), [Luciferland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luciferland/pseuds/Luciferland). 



> Just a warning, there is mentions of sexual, physical and mental abuse. Please heed these cautions if you're unsure. Thank you and I hope you enjoy.

Kyungsoo felt his chest throb. One blunt powerful pulse, shuddering through him until his fingers and toes twitched in recoil. The news played on, but his mind stuttered. Was this grief he felt? Anger? Horror? His body decided for him and throbbed once more.

**_“Parents detained for the suspected sexual abuse and murder of their six-year-old daughter are released on bail in enlightenment of new evidence.”_ **

            The room began to shake, Kyungsoo’s teeth began to throb. It took effort to relax his jaw as he made himself stand for a glass of water. He was _positive_ they were guilty; those bastards needed a taste of their own medicine. The law wasn’t much better, _dopey idiots couldn’t even keep the criminals they caught._

            Kyungsoo went to bed that night still breathing harshly. He stared up at the patches of damp along the wall to ceiling crease. The room felt too square. He lay awake as one o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock came and went. There was a nagging in his mind which turned shadows, cast from behind closed curtains, into his father, looming dark across the sheets. Twenty-one years reduced to naught. These thoughts did not help. _Sexual abuse. Released on bail._ Before he knew it he was dressed, striding from his apartment, barely hearing the lock click into place behind him. The alternative: curling up under his bed and screaming. Losing.

*   *   *

Kyungsoo woke as the sun descended the horizon. Arriving back at the apartment early morning was a blur. Burning his clothes was a blur. Climbing into bed, a blur. He shuddered, full body jerks which did not stop until he had got up to dress in three layers. He pondered upon his previous nakedness as he moved across the small studio apartment to make toast.

            The whole room smelt the sour fermented tang of kimchi and for the first time in weeks, it bothered him. Kyungsoo reached into one of the cupboards above his head for a plate and sat it atop the open bowl, then caught his toast as it popped up. He felt groggy, but calm. The evening was cloudy and dark, so he kept the blinds shut and turned the TV on.

            The end of a drama played out, before KBS was announcing 9pm and primetime news. Kyungsoo moved to sit on his bed, trailing crumbs, mind running on low until he suddenly registered what he was perceiving, through coloured picture and newscaster intonation.

**_“…brutally murdered inside their home near Muak Dong, Seoul. Minimal signs of struggle were found, the couple sustaining several stab wounds across the body, leading to huge losses of blood and eventual death. Jongno police currently believe this is a retaliation crime and caution all public to be vigilant.”_ **

            The article stirred something within Kyungsoo. Memories returned, acceptance coursed through his veins but as he watched the report, police bustling around the house he despised with his whole being, he only felt his blood sizzle. Something clicked inside him, a calling and a release of pressure all at once. He began to smile, though it was grim. Guilt was his sidekick but Kyungsoo wanted drunk satisfaction, and he’d only had one drink. 

 

_Another bruise. There were more, but most of them were hidden between his thighs. Kyungsoo hung his head as he changed for P.E, shuffling from the changing rooms behind the other boys. Normally he loved school. School was freedom. Not today._

_“Kyungsoo-ya, what’s the matter? Stop lurking at the back!” his teacher called out._

_His cheeks burnt as he moved gingerly down court. Volleyball. Someone threw it to their half, its swooshing audible. He didn’t want to hit it, it to hit him._

_Running hurt, and when he was knocked to the ground by a classmate, particularly for_ not _running, Kyungsoo almost wished he had stayed at home today. Almost._

_“S-sonsaengnim!” the boy who knocked him down stuttered for help, beckoning across court._

_Their teacher strode over. Quiet. He lifted Kyungsoo, announcing something about staying here or carrying on with the game. Kyungsoo wasn’t really paying too much attention, busy trying to think of a reasonable excuse as to why the fall had exposed purple fingerprints above the hem of his shorts. Why there was a harsh ring around the base of his throat. Why?_

It was only another month before the second – or technically third – murder took place. A young man who’d been standing outside the school, sitting near the children’s playground. Kyungsoo thought it was lucky he noticed the man before the children did. He had been pacing, which meant that really, this one was way past about time – he needed to feel useful. Sitting still wasn’t going to help anyone. He didn’t like to call it murder really, _more…justice._ There would be no more children like Kyungsoo, and no more parents like his own. He was doing everyone a favour really. Even the school teachers wouldn’t need to trouble themselves over passing concerns. Their country’s age hierarchy system would ultimately lead them not to act upon these suspicions anyway. The old were the wise, and the children would do well to remember it.

            As he headed out a couple of days later, Kyungsoo thanked himself for buying the padded coat and thick socks he wore that day. He’d long since learnt he was his own best friend. Early March, though technically spring, was still cold and he huffed a breath as he stuck hands in pockets, head held high.

            Leaving his building, which inside was more just a corridor with a few apartment doors, Kyungsoo walked down his narrow road lined with more houses, apartments, a small recording studio he never saw anyone go in or out of. Sinchon was a busy place, but his area was quiet mid-morning on a Wednesday. He could hear the children playing in the school yard just a little way down the hill he would descend if he turned left, but Kyungsoo was only going as far as the end of his road. Busy, but convenient.

            The bird song pooled a warmth within Kyungsoo, but it would take more to pull a smile. He didn’t feel afraid, his neighbourhood didn’t see much trouble and anyhow, he knew from experience that trying to hide was counterproductive. Confidence was key and for once in his life, Kyungsoo didn’t feel the need to fake his own.

            As it turned out the police were onto him, but they had nothing to go on. The old man running the corner shop who grunted at customers had a TV and today he was watching a variety show, but he was muttering about police investigations and when he turned to ring up Kyungsoo’s strawberry milk, he took his wrist and said,

            “You be careful on your way boy, there’s a killer about this area. Hurry home, don’t worry your mother.”       

            Kyungsoo almost bit back, but he held his tongue and left with his shopping. His mother could rot where she lay, though the mistake, he could fathom. There was no muscle about his skinny figure, his shoulders were narrow and at 173cm with a round face and equally round eyes, Kyungsoo didn’t exactly appear the twenty-eight years he had lived. His glasses didn’t help his cause, but if he didn’t wear them his astigmatism led him to glare. School had been a lose-lose situation, bullied with glasses, rejected and feared without. Now, it was either look like murder suspect number one or a child, and no matter Kyungsoo’s pride he didn’t like the sound of prison – he’d lived through that experience before his parents had died.

 

_They pulled him out of school. Teachers asking “too many bloody questions”. Questions Kyungsoo couldn’t answer. He had hoped they would come searching, for a while. At the very least, pretty and kind Miss Lee. In the end, he had to stop hoping. All the things that Kyungsoo hoped for only ever got worse. A curse._

_“How could you_ accuse _us of such a thing?! Do you think we enjoy seeing our boy with such brittle bones? He’s always been like a little doll, so fragile and precious.” A sniffle._

_Kyungsoo listened with trepidation through the crack in his bedroom door._

_“We try s- so hard to keep our Kyungie safe, and you accuse us of this?” Sniffling. Listening. “Of course not headmaster. We understand very well, protocol, of course. Thank you for your concern and understanding. We will. Goodbye now.”_

_He had heard the argument that day, first on the phone, then between his parents. He had felt the argument when they came looking for him. That particular argument lasted hours, the consequences weeks, and the memories, eternally._

It was mid-morning, mid-March by the time Kyungsoo saw the woman bullying her young child. It had been precisely forty-six days since his first murders, ten days since his last.

            The street was empty, which could have been why she wasn’t holding back. One hit had the child in the unforgiving arms of the concrete, though perhaps gentler than those of the woman. The air pulsed with the child’s cries.

            “Get the fuck up! Don’t just lie there!” The woman shouted, yanking the child by his arm.

Kyungsoo saw his feet leave the ground for a moment, before he was let go. He stumbled but managed to keep his balance. He couldn’t have been more than four years old.

            Kyungsoo couldn’t watch any more. All of a sudden he was seven again, mute in the face of violence, things he _knew_ were wrong but had never been any different. The familiar throbbing of his chest pulsed once, twice. There had been nobody around for him. His teeth ground, body shuddered, someone walking over his grave. The little boy’s mouth gaped wide, agonized. The aggression was there then all at once, he was calm.

            As though closing back in from a distance, Kyungsoo felt his white knuckled grip, the tugging at his trouser leg. The ringing in his ears subsided to birds chirping, the boy crying. Something smelt like… _copper._

            “Mister…why is my mummy sleeping?”

            Kyungsoo looked down. A fist around a knife, the teary boy. Body. Blood. The boy began to sob.

            “Why is she all red?” The sobbing became hysterics. “Wake up! Mummy!”

            Kyungsoo stuttered. The knife dropped. His breath became shallow. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth, immediately ripping it away at the _smell._ What the _fuck_ was this child doing to him? This was the first time he had ever felt _bad. Regret. Horror._

            With enough wit left to pick up the knife, Kyungsoo spun on his heel and ran. The child would probably die, without his mother. He would grieve. Would he remember in ten years? Would he even last ten years without a mum?

            Shaking fingers tried three times to let Kyungsoo into his room. The knife was hurled into the sink, his body hurled to the bed. He needed to change. He needed to burn the…the _weapon,_ his clothes. The police wouldn’t be called for a while, unless the kid was smart, unless someone walked past.

_In broad daylight._

            Kyungsoo squeezed his eyes shut, just like when he was a kid. The sting of tears burned at the top of his nose, behind his eyes. _Stop it, you’re pathetic. Boys don’t cry._ The venomous voice spat. Kyungsoo flinched, recoiled.

            Nobody was there. Nobody would ever be there.

            The first tear escaped.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading everybody.  
> This is a prequel to my 2017 BAE fic Blind Spot. Each can stand alone but go and read if you haven't already!  
> Comments or Kudos are hugely appreciated and if you want to talk to me on twitter find me @Luciferland. Any updates and info will be there :3


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